When a Love is Lost
by The Rouge Glow-worm
Summary: Every lady needs a hero, and when Severus is torn from this world in death's embrace, it is up to him to protect his lady and their unborn child from an evil that will stop at nothing to destroy them both
1. The Dying of the Light

When a Love is Lost  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
The characters are either J.K. Rowling's, or Tanasia Maleficarum's. This is an alternate ending to Tanasia's "My Antonia," BUT it can be read alone, if you're interested enough to suspend your disbelief and fill in a few chinks yourself.  
  
This is based very, very tightly around Maggie Shayne's "Annie's Hero." I lift sections word-for-word here. I am telling you up front so I don't get a Cassandra Claire yanked on me, I am taking some parts WORD FOR WORD.  
  
If you're still here, here's the explanation: this story picks up at the end of Tanasia's "My Antonia," in chapter fifteen, "The Concept of Dread." I'm aware there are a couple of plot holes, but if you have NOT read this story, just pretend Snape's gotten himself married somehow. You WILL be pleasantly surprise with this, I swear, I cried writing it.  
  
Two more things: You'll notice both Severus and Antonia are a bit OOC, but there IS a reason for this, which will be explained later on. Also, disregard anything from the original "My Antonia" about Antonia being pregnant.  
  
Chapter fifteen: Descent to the Maelstrom (The Concept of Dread)  
  
.He sneered. "What makes you think there's a problem? It's a frigid day and we're in Diagon Alley."  
  
Antonia's smile faded momentarily, but then returned with renewed vitality. "Let's go back to the castle and warm up," she said, grinning in a way reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. She would have liked to stay, but what was the point if they wouldn't enjoy it?  
  
Severus, of course, looked wary. "You wanted so badly to come. Why the change?"  
  
Antonia explained herself quickly, so her husband's suspicious mind would be set at ease. "We can do it another day, when we'll both enjoy it more. It'll be more peaceful at the castle."  
  
Severus had a vague idea of his wife's definition of peaceful, and happily led the way back to the Three Broomsticks to retrieve their broom.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"The Dying of the Light"  
  
When Antonia woke up the next morning, the idea that she might never see her husband again didn't cross her mind. The concept that these might be their last moments together was un-fathomable. All she thought about was her husband, laying next to her, wrapping his arms around her and telling her he loved her.  
  
She wanted to protest when Severus rolled out of bed to get ready, but couldn't. A wave of nausea rolled over her, startling her. But it quickly passed, and she passed it off as nothing. She slipped out from under the cool bed sheets and kissed her husband's belly, right on a scar he had from an accident as a child. It reached around from his navel to his spine. He never had told her what it was from, exactly, just some youthful rough- housing. "You can't kiss me like that and then just leave!" she exclaimed, even though she knew he had business in Diagon Alley today.  
  
"I'm sorry, love, but I have to." Severus' voice was latticed with regret, but also a firm resolution to the less-than-pleasant day slated for him. "The Ministry wants to check up on me today." I've been a spy for the light side for almost a decade and a half. When will I finally have their complete trust? he mused, irritated.  
  
Severus slipped into the bathroom, and Antonia lay back down, imaging the hot water running over her love's body, sloughing away the night of sleep and the previous day's love-making. Such thoughts, however, were pushed from her mind as another wave of nausea flooded her body, and worsened as Severus emerged from the bathroom. By the time he was ready to leave, she was nearly shaking with sickness.  
  
He looked at her anxiously. "M'lady, I know I must leave, but you don't. You don't look so well, so stay here today, alright? I'm worried."  
  
Antonia agreed with him that she wasn't feeling at all well, which surprised him. She must really be quite ill to admit it openly. "I'll see Madame Pomfrey if it worsens," she promised, not so much as the truth then to calm her spouse. His concern was genuine, she knew, and if he was worried for her, he wouldn't be prepared for the ministry today.  
  
Severus nodded nervously, as if he didn't believe her. "Alright, I'll be home later. Take it east today. Let the Fae do things for you, okay? "She nodded. "I love you, love."  
  
"Love you back, she said, watching him leave. Then she ran for the bathroom, and not a moment too soon.  
  
By lunchtime, her symptoms had cleared up, but she didn't feel like dining in the Great Hall, so she had lunch sent down to her. She decided to pamper herself a little today, lest her morning sickness returned, and then later plan something special for Severus on his return.  
  
She sat down with her lunch and picked up the day's copy of The Daily Prophet, which had just been delivered via owl. The headlines she read jumped out at her and took up half of the front page, startling her into dropping the paper onto the tabletop. You-Know-Who defeated by Ministry of Magic  
  
Oddly enough, she had always figured that if she lived to hear such glorious news, she would be overjoyed - for Severus first, then for the rest of the world. But for some reason, this announcement brought with it a sense of eerie, calm panic. The glass she was holding was dripping water, and she realized it was because her hand was shaking. She stared at the paper, and some voice inside her warned her to look away. Now. Hurry. Walk away before you can read it.  
  
But she didn't listen. She couldn't move. Think. Not even blink. All she could do was sit, transfixed by the words her eyes absorbed like a morbid sponge.  
  
Less then an hour ago, a Wizard's Duel broke out in front of Gringott's Bank, started by none other than You-Know-Who's hit squad, the Death Eaters. Among them, this time, was the Dark Lord himself, apparently attempting a move on Diagon Alley, with covers the elaborate mines and tunnels which hold the wizarding world's riches. Aurors were on the scene immediately, and rushed to the aide of the Ministry officials and civilians that had been engaged in battle. Details are still sketchy, but those involved say the Dark Lord was destroyed after being hit simultaneously with 3 Avada Kedavra curses. No injuries were reported among the Aurors, and all Death Eaters present were stunned and taken into custody, including the much-rumored Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. One civilian, however, is assumed dead after a Death Eater flung a Relinqio at him, causing him to be surrounded by a series of explosions. His body is yet to be recovered, and experts claim it may never be retrieved die to the intense heat of the explosions. The civilian's name is being withheld pending notification of the family.  
  
Antonia didn't need notification. She knew. The room was unnaturally dark, she couldn't see anything as she sank to her knees and waited in a state of borderline sanity. She couldn't speak or move or cry. Couldn't anything. She only stared at the window, hating it with everything in her.  
  
And then in swooped a Ministry of Magic owl.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Worth the World"  
  
"Well, Severus, I think that's everything we needed to discuss." Severus nodded in response to the Minister. They had just spent the past few hours in the stifling Ministry building, going over Voldemort's actions, as well as Severus's, and Severus was quite ready to leave, having acquired a crick in his neck and the overwhelming urge to piss.  
  
But it was not in vain. Although any moron could see it, the Ministry has admitted that Voldemort's power was rising, rapidly, and that he would more than likely make an attempt on some strategic location soon, possibly The Daily Prophet, or Azkaban.  
  
"Yes, Minister, I really feel we made decent headway. Won't you join me for lunch, then?" Severus didn't really fancy the idea of lunch with Cornelius Fudge, but it wouldn't hurt to reinforce his Ministry ties.  
  
"An excellent idea, Severus. The Leaky Cauldron, then?" Severus nodded, and they headed off towards the pub, past Ollivanders, Gambol and Japes, and the Magical Menagerie. They were soon joined by a few other Ministry officials in front of Madame Malkin's, who seemed determined to invite themselves along for the ride. They chatted easily, until they were all surprised out of their promenade by a startling BANG! From the steps to Gringott's bank behind them. The steps of the marble structure had filled with wizards sporting Death Eater garb, and the streets panicked.  
  
"Dear, dear, what's going on?" bumbled Fudge, searching for his glasses. He found them and placed them on his short, pointy nose. "DEAR LORD! It's You- Know-Who!" The man promptly passed out.  
  
Severus hadn't the time to marvel at the capability of the wizarding world's leader. He was busily searching the chaos for the Dark Lord himself, worried of the ensuing alarm that his arrival would orchestrate. Indeed, there he was, currently watching the street battle with an expression of malice and cruel enjoyment.  
  
Severus knew what an effect his mere presence was having on those assembled - the Ministry, while freely admitting the creature's return inside the Ministry walls, had made nothing in the way of a formal or public acknowledgement of the fact. Consequently, some people of the world really did believe he hadn't returned. Brushing the thought aside, Severus joined the fray.  
  
Running purely on adrenaline was tiring, he quickly realized. It had been ages since he's been in any sort of battle, not since before he turned, and his mind and body had softened somewhat. But that mattered not when he saw two Ministry Aurors fighting the Dark Lord, and that they were definatly getting off worse.  
  
No, what mattered to him was his decision. He had a moment to decide which lasted forever. He knew that he had to help them, never mind that he would die in the process, or that it would blow his cover. He was ready to die fighting Voldemort, ready and willing. But then he thought of Antonia. Antonia. He couldn't do it, couldn't leave her.  
  
He was jerked out of his thoughts by an explosion, punctuated with a scream. Hell I'm dead anyways, he thought, as he plowed straight for the Dark Lord. God, I'm sorry, Antonia, I hope you know how much I love you.  
  
Before he was even near Voldemort, he flung out the first and deadliest curse that came to mind. He had used it before, and was surprised at his lack of hesitation to use it again on the one that taught it to him. "Avada Kedavara!"  
  
He hadn't really expected it to work, but as he shouted the curse, he vaguely registered that other voices had done the same. Two, if he wasn't mistaken, belonging to the Aurors that he was 'rescuing.' The three curses did together what one didn't, proved that Voldemort was at least partially still human and able to die. But Severus didn't see it, he was simultaneously thrown off of his feet by a Death Eater's curse.  
  
"You BASTARD!" the outraged Death Eater screamed. Severus frantically blinked blood out of his eyes, looking for his attacker. Was that Lucius Malfoy? No. The slimeweed was too cowardly to come after him for whatever he had just done to the Dark Lord. Then who the bloody hell was it? He groped for his wand blindly, but couldn't find it. Oh fuck. The Death Eater was bearing down on him, wand outstretched.  
  
"Relinquio!" screeched the Death Eater. Severus attempted to apparate on the spot, and for a moment he thought he had made it in time. But then, an awful, gut-wrenching pain took hold of him. I'm dead. Dying, he thought. But it stopped as suddenly as it had started. No pain. No anything. Only darkness. Timeless night.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he wondered how much time had passed. He looked around and blinked. This isn't right. What's wrong? he thought. He wasn't in Diagon Alley. He didn't know where the hell he was. He was sprawled on his back, not on the stone steps of Gringotts, but on a grassy patch of field. Birds chirruped, and the sun was high in the sky. Where is Voldemort? The Aurors? The people in Diagon Alley?  
  
"They're all fine, Severus, with the obvious exception of Voldemort. That was quite a brave thing you did back there, but thanks to you, Voldemort has at last been defeated."  
  
Severus stood up quickly. His eyes met a pair that looked as if they belonged to time itself. He rose, marveling that was able to do so. "Not brave, Sir, stupid. Who are you, and why am I not dead?"  
  
The man was startled by Severus's bluntness in such a situation. "I am known to you as Godric Gryffindor, servant of the Light. I am older than you could imagine. The oldest White Knight in the army. First Knight of Goodness, in fact. You're not dead because I took you from your life before you could experience physical death."  
  
Severus's eyes widened. "So I'm not dead?"  
  
"You're supposed to be. I was eager to bring you over, and didn't want to wait for the paperwork on your body and soul to go through. Such a hassle." The man was grinning, but Severus was most certainly not.  
  
"Bring me over? Over where?" He looked around. This place looked normal. "I want to go home to my wife."  
  
The man nodded understandingly. "Yes, you love her very much, don't you? I've never seen a mortal love so powerful as that which you have for your Antonia. And that she has for you."  
  
Severus felt wrung out. "We belong together. We love each other." Tears threatened to push outwards as he wondered to himself. Will I ever see her again? His knees buckled and he fell to the ground again.  
  
Godric placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, as if he knew the internal worry. "I need you to join us."  
  
Severus felt dazed, but shook his head immediately. "No. I don't want to join your army of White Knights. I just want to go home to my Antonia."  
  
"Yes, well, that can be easily resolved."  
  
Severus's head snapped up at that, fixing the man with a withering stare that was his trademark. "Nothing can change my feelings for her. Nothing will make me miss her less, even if you keep me from her. Nothing."  
  
The old man sighed. "I've watched you all your life, Severus. I know when a mortal man has the makings of a White Knight. From the time you were very young, I've sensed you'd be one of my best. Perhaps the finest knight to ever wield the golden sword."  
  
Severus shook. "I'm no hero."  
  
"But you just gave your life back there to kill Voldemort."  
  
Severus gazed emptily at the man, a shadow eclipsing his heart. "I can never go back to her, can I?" He realized out loud.  
  
Godric looked forlorn. "How much do you love her, Severus?"  
  
He looked up. "I would die for her." He knew it, too. In his heart, he knew he would die for her to be happy.  
  
"That, Severus, is exactly what you have done." "I don't understand."  
  
"She will need your help. She will need protection from an evil so strong that my army is challenged with it. I've seen enough men to know that none of them can do the job. I need a man with enough love, courage, and strength of will to save her. That man, the only man for this, is you, Severus."  
  
Severus frowned. "Then send me back. I can save her. I know I can."  
  
"No Severus. You must stay here, for only from this realm can you hope of saving her. Not as her mortal husband, but as a White Knight. You said you'd die for her. Now it's time to prove it."  
  
Severus froze. "I'd do anything, you hear, anything for her," he growled.  
  
"Even give her up?"  
  
Silence. Then, "well . . . if . . . if there's no other way."  
  
Severus, what are you doing? You can't save her like this! What kind of danger is she in? You must warn her!  
  
But somehow, he couldn't help but believe Godric. He was similar to Dumbledore in that he made people trust him.  
  
"Kneel, then, Severus." He did so. "The sorrow will go now. It will go along with every remnant of your past life. Only your soul will remain. The memories, mortal pleasures - all these will go now. Drifting away from your mind like a sand before a strong wind. You begin again, here, like a clean slate. Prepared to learn the ways of a White Knight."  
  
There was a mist swirling in his mind, causing him to feel light headed, and then quite suddenly empty. Just empty. He felt the tears on his cheeks, and the heartache. The emptiness inside him, stayed, but he couldn't remember why it was there. Why he'd been crying. Why he still felt like crying.  
  
"Arise, Drake, White Knight of the Light."  
  
Drake. Yes. He was Drake. I knew that . . . . Strange, for a moment he hadn't remembered his own name. But there it was. Firmly in his brain where it should be.  
  
He stood, slowly, oddly weighted. He looked to see a sword at his side. He drew it from the sheath and looked at it. It felt unfamiliar for a moment, but then it felt right. Somehow, he knew he could handle the weapon like an extension of his own arm.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted, though, by a voice. "Are you ready, Drake, to swear your vows to me? And to realize that in breaking your vows, you would condemn yourself to the second and permanent death?"  
  
A chill ran up Drake's spine, along with the feeling that he had lost something, that he should be mourning. But he also felt, beyond any doubt, that he had to do what this man asked. It was of utmost importance. So he whispered, "I'm ready," and placed his sword across his heart. With it there, Drake repeated his service vows in a voice that shook on occasion with a sorrow he could not name. 


	2. Embrace of Darkness

"Embrace of Darkness"  
  
Antonia couldn't remember immediately what had happened after the Owl. She was spinning, being consumed by a deafening roar in her ears as she rushed down to meet the cold stone of the bed chamber floor. Her stomach convulsed, empty though it was, for she had emptied it earlier that morning. She sputtered, heaved, gasped for air, feeling violently ill, wishing she could be sick. Some one handed her a glass of something. It was Dumbledore. Water, ice cold, washed out her mouth and shocked her as it hit her stomach.  
  
Why is he here? How did he know?  
  
She faded into unconsciousness, her mind blissfully blank.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Every student and staff member at Hogwarts attended the funeral. So did many Ministry of Magic officials, some Hogwarts alumni that had been taught by Severus, and many, many other people Antonia didn't know. It was a big deal for the wizarding world. Severus had died a martyr, his name was famous, and he was being called a hero. And Antonia hated every moment of it.  
  
She stood by the empty grave in silence. She didn't want any of it. She didn't want a hero, she wanted her husband standing beside her. But instead of him, Albus stood beside her. He had stayed with her through the whole thing, knowing she could fall to bits suddenly. It startled him to see someone so strong appear so broken.  
  
The funeral proceeded, despite the fact that the grave lay empty. There hadn't been a body to bury, it had been lost in the explosion. Antonia thought it was ridiculous, the symbol of the empty coffin. There was nothing left of him but this. And after today, she wouldn't even have that. She brushed the thought aside and concentrated on the peaceful buzzing filling her head. It was loud, but not loud enough, for she could still hear past it.  
  
"Antonia? Dear?" Damn it. Dumbledore was waking her up. What for? She looked up, annoyed, and blinked. People were leaving. Some stopped to hug her, or give some words of comfort, but she hadn't noticed them. They were leaving, she realized, through an odd sort of panic. They can't leave. It isn't over. They were hugging her like it was over.  
  
It can't be over.  
  
"Calm down, Antonia, it's all right." Albus's voice did nothing to soothe her. She turned sharply towards the door and cried out.  
  
"No! Wait! It isn't over. It . . . isn't over. It can't . . . be . . . over . . . ."  
  
Silence. She was dimly aware of the eyes on her, all filled with concern. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Albus. "I can't . . . do this. I can't." She closed her eyes.  
  
"Antonia?"  
  
"She's fainted!"  
  
"Get Madame Pomfrey!"  
  
But she didn't want Madam Pomfrey. She wanted the comfortable buzz that blocked out sound. There it was, but still not loud enough yet. She wanted to block out everything, all of them. If only she could sink a little deeper into the noise and darkness. Just a bit more.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Amazing."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Voices. She heard voices. Who was talking? One was Poppy . . . and was that Dumbledore?  
  
"She's been out for almost an hour now, Albus. Let me give her an awakening brew."  
  
"No, Poppy. Her body is just giving her mind a rest from the pain. It was too much. She will wake when she can handle it again."  
  
"I'm amazed, really, that she hasn't had a blackout like this sooner, given her condition."  
  
Then a new voice. "Her condition?" Minerva. Sounding worried. Why?  
  
"She's coming around, Albus," Poppy informed them. Then to Minerva she said, "the condition I'm talking about is her pregnancy."  
  
Zap. Antonia felt jolted inside. Pregnancy? Were the talking about her?  
  
:Oh Lord. Antonia's pregnant? All alone and expecting. Dear God." Minerva sat on Antonia's bed, and Antonia mused that there had been an awful lot of vanities in that single sentence, coming from Minerva, a non-religious woman.  
  
"Antonia, wake up."  
  
Damn it all Minerva. Don't wake me yet. Antonia had bee having a lovely dream. She was pregnant, and she was imagining Severus's face when he found out. Surprised, scared, and overjoyed all at once.  
  
"Antonia, wake up, you hear?" She heard, and began her descent into oblivion again. Ah, sweet dreams. "You are going to have Severus's baby, you will not be wallowing in self pity while my friend's child needs you!"  
  
Antonia was turned towards reality with a sudden bump! What was she hearing? But that was only a dream . . . wasn't it?  
  
"Antonia, you know as well as I do that Severus would expect you to be strong for your child! He'd want you to like and tell them about him one day! He wouldn't let you do this right now!" Minerva was nearing hysterics now. "Dammit, Antonia, wake up!"  
  
Albus rushed to her side. "Minerva, calm down! That's not helping. She's tired, wrung out, and will wake up when she's ready and able to. You know as well as I that she will do what is best for the child. And she probably can't even hear you."  
  
But she had heard, wanted to hear more. She drew herself up and felt inside of herself, wondering if it could be true. And there it was. Warmth, life, something alive and growing there, something made of the purest love. She could feel it. She wanted to touch it, but her foggy mind wasn't giving out commands yet. She struggled to regain consciousness, to regain that pain she was feeling ever so slightly right now. She didn't want to resurface, because to do so would be to realize her pain, her loss. The truth that Severus was gone. It was blinding, that pain. But she reached for it anyway.  
  
And she managed to tear open her eyes.  
  
The room was blurry, and she choked out a harsh, ragged word that even she wasn't aware of what it was supposed to be. The three people in the room tensed, then looked at her. Her eyes met three pairs filled with worry and love.  
  
"Antonia! Glad to see you back with us." Albus was grinning, but Antonia was not. She was feeling it now, the heartbreak and the emptiness. She trembled with anticipation. If what she had thought she heard wasn't so . . . . Oh dear God.  
  
"Is it true? Is it? Please say something."  
  
It was Poppy who answered. "Yes, Antonia, dear, it's true. I took some test when you came in, and you're pregnant."  
  
Antonia stifled more tears. She couldn't fade into the buzzing now, could she? No. It would have been a thousand times easier, but she couldn't do that to her child. Severus's child. "It hurts . . . I want to die so much . . . ."  
  
Albus took her hand in his. "Of course it will hurt. But you have to be strong for your baby, and for Severus. You can make it."  
  
She could. She just didn't know if she would.  
  
What else could hurt this bad and not kill me?  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Between Two Worlds"  
  
Battle was now a second nature to Drake. He had done so much of it, it had to be. The art of fighting against magics more powerful and darker than the night had become a part of him, as much as his appearance or his name. The drive to win for the cause of goodness because stronger, and mortality faded. Emotions vanished, aside from triumph or anger in battle. Physically, he had no sensations. Hunger, thirst, the difference between heat and cold were not there. He ate to keep strong, drank when he was dry. Sexual desire was dormant, as well, because he had no use for such desires. He felt a pain at an enemy's sword, or pleasure at his victory. Besides all these, though, was an endless and inexplicable sorrow which ate at him. It made no sense, and did not aide his cause, so he had no use for it. But as much as he tried, he could not rid himself of it.  
  
He'd obeyed Godric's orders, traveling through time backwards to days long past, or forward, to times he could have never dreamt of. And all the time between. Battles would last hours sometimes, or centuries. But when he returned to Godric, he always found that a very small amount of time had passed.  
  
He never really thought about it, until Godric, who was by now a friend as well as commander and teacher, asked him, "Drake, how long have you been a White Knight?"  
  
He had been thrown. He began adding up the years his battles had taken, until he finally gave up and answered. "I don't know, Godric. Many, many years, I suppose."  
  
Godric looked amused. "Time doesn't pass for you when you're not here, Drake. In reality, time only passes when you are here, resting between your missions."  
  
Drake was startled. "But I'm rarely here!"  
  
"True, but that is because you are the best." Godric looked thrilled.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You are the only one to ever defeat Todesengel, the Dark Knight's strongest warrior."  
  
Drake sat down on a tree stump that was in his "mission recovery," the wooded area he had landed in after his little death spiel. When he had asked Godric where it was located exactly, he had gotten the answer, "A time that is not a time in a place that is not a place." Peachy king, he had thought.  
  
But he now thought abut Todesengel, the opponent he had so often fought against.  
  
"Todesengel seems to be present whenever I'm sent to correct a moral wrong or prevent those wrongs from occurring," Drake concluded aloud.  
  
"And you're thinking there's a reason for that, aren't you?" observed Godric.  
  
Drake agreed with a nod of the head. "You've told me that there is a reason for everything, Godric, and I've found that to be close to the truth."  
  
"Close to the truth? What's not true about it?"  
  
Drake paused, then spoke softer. "I've yet to find a point for this painful sorrow in my heart." He closed his eyes. "You say I am your best I rarely lose a battle, my skills are honed to perfection, and still . . . " he stopped.  
  
"And still?"  
  
Drake brought his hands to his chest. "I ache inside."  
  
Godric looked worried. "I'm sorry you feel that. Perhaps you're not ready for this mission after all."  
  
That got Drake's attention. "Not ready?" What could he possibly think is beyond my ability? Drake was hurt that Godric doubted him.  
  
Godric shrugged. "Drake, you see, all these battles you've been sent on in the past are not merely simple missions for our cause. They've been a form of training. I sent you into anytime Todesengel was likely to be."  
  
Drake looked up in disgust. "So you wanted to see who was the better fighter? Well it was pointless, he beat me as much as I him"  
  
Godric nodded. "Too true. But you are the only White Knight to defeat him at all. I thought you would be equal to Todesengel, and you are. And now it is time for you to start the mission you were brought here for, one of incredible importance. Are you ready?"  
  
"I am," replied Drake. He wanted to be busy again, because only when he was occupied could he forget for a moment the nameless ache in his heart. "What time will I be sent to?"  
  
Drake could have sworn that Godric hesitated for a moment. "From the time you were taken, Drake. Or near there, almost eight months afterwards. That's the time you've really been dead."  
  
"Eight months?" So short a time! It boggled the mind.  
  
"You will have no memory of your other life, which is for the best, I think. You must remember you have sworn vows to me, and must return to my service after your mission has been fulfilled. Failure to do so would mean the second death."  
  
Drake bristled. "I have not forgotten my vows, Godric. I don't see any reason why you would think so."  
  
Godric nodded. "Alrighty then! Since you'll be going back to your own time, we need to make a few adjustments to your appearance. A cloak of disguise. No one can recognize you, as they believe you to be dead."  
  
Drake jumped. "Will I be amongst people I knew in that life?"  
  
"Of course not!" exclaimed Godric, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Then, realizing his sensitivity, he cleared his throat and began anew. "This is just to avoid the slim possibility that someone you knew would see you in passing, that's all."  
  
Drake nodded, seeing the logic in that, but he couldn't help but notice how Godric didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that. But he nonetheless knelt and allowed Godric to work his magic. After a few muttered spells, Drake was instructed to rise. He did, and pulled out his sword, in which he inspected his own face in.  
  
"Godric, I look the same! My hair is just as dark, my eyes just as ebon as before! There is no difference!"  
  
Godric grinned. "The cloak of disguise cannot hide a man from himself, Drake. You know yourself too well to be fooled by a disguise, so when you see your reflection, you see right through the magic."  
  
Drake considered this. "But what if someone I saw in my time knew me just as well?" he wondered aloud.  
  
Godric answered for him, startling him as he didn't realize he had spoken out loud. "A man knows himself better then anyone else, Drake. To my eyes, even, you are different in appearance. You are still tall and muscular, but you have auburn hair and gray eyes. Yours lips are less thin, and your nose is severely straight, almost pixie-like. No, I daresay that even someone who knew you since birth could not tell who it was. Having reassured you in that, it is time for you to go."  
  
"But I have not received my mission yet."  
  
"Ah yes. The mission involves a woman named Antonia and her imminent child." Those words sent a tingling up Drake's body, as though he had goose bumps on his head.  
  
"Are they in danger?" he rightly assumed.  
  
"The child is in great danger. And it is terrible, because this child is of great importance to humanity. It will grow to be one of the most powerful leaders the free world will ever know. It will pave the way to world peace, stomping out ignorance, poverty, bigotry, and war. This child will change the world."  
  
Drake finished his speech for him. "So the Dark forces will try and kill it." Damnable bastards.  
  
"Yes," answered Godric, looking very grim indeed. "You know as well as I that they cannot take a mortal life. If they could, they would simply murder the mother and be done with it. The child is another matter. Once born it is safe. But until it draws its first breath, it is fair game to them. You're this child's only hope. Will you accept this mission?"  
  
Drake's eyes met the old man's, filled with a determination he had never known before. "I will do better than accept. I will succeed." 


End file.
